


The Waiting is the Hardest Part

by LUZ_DE_ROC



Category: Acacias 38 (TV), Maitino - Fandom
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:47:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22841221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LUZ_DE_ROC/pseuds/LUZ_DE_ROC
Summary: Camino wants to collect Maite's things so she can have something familiar in jail, but it's harder than she thought when memories come flooding back.(Picks up after Camino is left shattered in the wake of Maite's "visit.")
Relationships: Maite and Camino, Maitino - Relationship
Comments: 31
Kudos: 85





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I haven't written any fic in a VERY long time so please forgive me if there's a little rust to knock off. But there's something really special about Maite and Camino that just set the little fic hamster in my brain running in its wheel. It's a little (a lot) angsty, and maybe a bit fluffy in the middle (because I needed some happiness for these two right now, damn it!). 
> 
> Enjoy, and please drop me a note to let me know what you think!

Camino at last uncurled herself from the chaise lounge. It was one thing to indulge in a good cry, and quite another to wallow in self-pity, and she knew she was dangerously close to crossing from one to the other.

She wiped at her eyes, took a couple calming breaths, and stood up, remembering that she’d actually come here for a reason. 

Walking over to Maite’s drawing table, she located several notebooks in a pile off to the side. She bent down, selected a blank one, and set it on the table. Next she found Maite’s favorite pencils, sharpened them, and put them next to the notebook. After a brief search, she found the charcoal she liked to use and added it to the pile. 

She looked around again, and at last saw what she was looking for – one of Maite’s small painting cases. Grabbing it, she opened it up, and placed everything she had gathered inside. Satisfied, she closed the latch on the case and placed it by the front door. 

She took a deep breath and turned, looking down the hallway. Gathering painting supplies, she knew, had been the easy part. One more deep breath and then she forced her feet to start moving, every measured step echoing in the quiet space as she made her way past the small kitchen, past the bathroom, and stopped just short of Maite’s bedroom.

She stood at the threshold of the room, the space she considered quintessentially Maite. Not that the studio wasn’t, but that was still a public space, a workplace, an area to receive friends and clients. And while it reflected Maite as an artist, cheerfully chaotic and bright, filled with her works in progress and prints from some of her favorite artists, it didn’t tell her full story. It was only here, in this room, that Camino felt she understood Maite completely.

She looked around, not yet ready to step inside. And she noted that while Maite had packed up most of her studio, she had not done the same here, and the room still looked very much as she remembered it. It told her something about the artist’s intent to return, and the thought made something in her chest twist painfully. She put a hand on the doorframe to steady herself.

The most obvious thing about the room was that the walls and most of the available dresser space were taken up by artwork. That in itself was not surprising, given that the studio up front had been brimming with it. But unlike the studio, these were not reproductions of famous works. Rather, they were far more personal.

There were several of Maite’s own paintings, ones she didn’t want to part with – a bright seascape from a vacation on the French coast, and a darker piece, the Champs-Elysees with the Arc de Triomphe in the background, a storm brewing at the far corner of the canvas. There was a portrait of a middle-aged woman, Maite’s mother, and another of a young man, a good friend of hers and fellow artist. Propped by her bedside were a couple small watercolors, not her favorite medium, but she’d enjoyed the exercise, and she explained that she kept them to remind herself to always try something new.

The piece most recently added to the room, sitting tucked to the side of the dresser was “El Abrazo,” situated in such a way that anyone passing by to use the bathroom wouldn’t see it, but it would be immediately evident to anyone taking a few steps into the room. Camino could just make out the corner of it from where she stood, the painting that had completely changed her way of thinking about art. And love.

Several of the other pieces were gifts from friends in Paris, including a charcoal etching of the garden flat she had rented, and one of the red windmill of the Moulin Rouge that Camino often stared at for great lengths of time, dreaming of seeing it in person. Maite had once caught her daydreaming, and had slipped her arms around her from behind, promising that she would one day take her there. Camino had leaned back against her and smiled because at the moment, everything seemed possible, and it seemed easy to believe she could have the life she wanted.

In the far corner were several sculptures. One was a small mockup of a bust, crude in its execution, one of Maite’s first attempts at working with clay. It certainly lacked the refinement of the artist’s current skill, but Camino could still see the beginnings of Maite’s style in the slope of the neck and the lift of the shoulders. She told Camino that she liked to keep it where she could see it so when she was feeling frustrated, she could look back at how far she’d come, and how it motivated her to keep going.

Next to it sat Camino’s bird. Her first foray into clay molding hadn’t exactly been the rousing success she’d been hoping for. The result had been bird-like, but Camino was reasonably sure that if real, that bird wasn’t going to be doing much flying. The body was lopsided, the wings uneven, and when she was done, she had frowned at it so hard that Maite erupted in laughter. Camino had joined in moments later as that seemed the only logical response in the face of the pitiful creature. She was ready to put the little thing out of its misery and squash it when Maite plucked it out of her hands. 

“No, no!” she had exclaimed. “You can’t destroy it!” She cradled it in her palm.

“Maite, it’s awful,” Camino shook her head. “Why would I keep it?”

Maite had smiled. “As a reminder. Trust me.”

Camino hadn’t really known what had happened to the bird after that. It wasn’t until the first evening that they had actually made it to Maite’s bed that Camino had spied the little avian. Sated and tucked warmly against Maite’s shoulder, she noticed it perched next to the bust, and finally asked Maite why she’d kept it. And Maite had explained how the little bird would be the starting point on the young artist’s roadmap to greater things. 

Camino smiled at the memory as she glanced around the rest of the room.

She took in the small knickknacks that Maite had collected, both in France and her short time in Acacias, a few pieces of jewelry strewn on the dresser, a pair of stockings that hadn’t quite made it to the laundry basket. Several art books were stacked in a pile on the floor. Everything about the room suggested that its inhabitant was coming back at any moment. 

Camino felt the tears start to well up again as she finally walked forward, directly toward the bed covered in a colorful quilt, just as eclectic as Maite herself. Against her better judgement she sat down, hands spread wide against the quilt as she pressed them into the fabric, the simple touch immediately evoking vivid images of intimacy in her mind – impossibly soft skin under her hand, heated kisses against her mouth, need that built beyond anything she’d ever imagined before.

She glanced behind her and briefly fought against the desire, but it wasn’t long before she was stretching out on the mattress, pulling a pillow in toward her, fresh tears pricking at her eyes. She inhaled the faint scent lingering in the material and allowed herself to drift into a memory.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm choosing to believe that these two had some time together that we didn't see. Because they deserved it. And it also makes me happy to think Felicia was getting outsmarted at every turn as the young Pasamar was blazing a trail to Maite's every chance she got!

It had been a rare afternoon.

The restaurant was quiet after the lunch rush, and Camino had cleared all the tables, save for the one where a couple was quietly enjoying their post-lunch coffee and pastry. She delivered the last of the dishes to the kitchen, and came back up to the front, where she found her mother at counter.

“Madre, I think I’m going to head out for a walk in the park, okay? Stretch my legs a little. Maybe stop by the library.”

Felicia, who had several bills in front her and the restaurant’s ledger open, nodded absently.

“Muy bien, hija. Just be back by dinner.”

Camino didn’t wait around for her mother to think about it and change her mind. Grabbing her hat and coat, she was out the door, pulling her coat around herself as she headed down the street.

She did indeed head for the park, mostly so it wouldn’t be a complete lie, but once she got halfway down the central path, she ducked left and doubled back along a less-frequently used trail that took her under some shady pines and eventually back out to the street, several blocks from the restaurant. She crossed the street, hurried down a narrow alley, and peered out to make sure there was no one she knew walking by who might question why she was there, or worse, want to chat.

Satisfied it was clear of prying eyes, Camino stepped lightly into the street and in a matter of moments, slipped into the vestibule of Maite’s studio. She paused, the sight of the front door giving her a little thrill, just as it had the first time she had come here. Even then, just coming for her first lesson, she’d somehow known that what was on the other side of the door was going to change her in ways she couldn’t imagine.

Camino knocked lightly, but got no response. Thinking Maite might be working, she chose not to rap harder, and instead reached out and tested the handle. Not surprisingly, it turned easily. Shaking her head, Camino let herself in. As private as Maite was about her space and her paintings, she seemed incapable of remembering to secure her door. Camino closed the door firmly behind her, and locked it.

Hanging up her coat and hat, she stepped toward the sliding doors and peeked inside. As she suspected, Maite was at her drafting table, staring hard at the sketch in front her, lost in thought. Camino took a moment to take in the artist – the tilt of her head as she considered the picture, the small frown that told Camino she wasn’t quite satisfied with something, her feet tucked back around her chair as she leaned forward. Her hair was tied back loosely, indicating she’d hurried that morning to get to work before she lost some bit of inspiration that had come to her.

Camino knocked softly on the inside frame of the door.

“Hola,” she said quietly, not wanting to startle her.

Maite looked up at the sound of her voice, a smile breaking over her face.

“Camino! I wasn’t expecting you. What are you doing here?”

Camino shrugged. “It was slow at the restaurant. Emilio went to visit Cinta. My mother is paying bills. And I’m taking a walk in the park.”

Maite grinned at that.

“You seem to be lost.”

“Not at all,” Camino replied, walking toward her. “I’m right where I should be.”

When she got to Maite, she leaned down, and Maite instantly tilted her head up to meet her kiss, her mouth warm and inviting under her own.

When they parted, Maite smiled. “Yes, you are.”

Camino returned the smile, and then glanced down at the drafting table.

“What are you working on?”

Maite sighed.

“A magazine illustration. Except there’s something not quite right with it, and I can’t figure out what. It’s making me a little crazy. And of course, it’s due in a few days.”

Maite went back to frowning at the picture. Camino stood behind her, looking down at the illustration. It was beautiful, as was all of her work, but Camino knew the older woman was a perfectionist, and she wouldn’t let it go until she was one hundred percent satisfied with it. It was one of the things she admired about her, her relentless work ethic and her trust in the process. Camino occasionally still wanted to rip up whatever she was working on when frustration got the better of her.

“You’ll get it,” she assured her. “I’m sorry I caught you at a bad time. Do you want me to go?”

Maite continued staring at the picture, but replied, “It depends. Are you going to keep doing that?”

Unaware, Camino had absently reached up with her left hand, slipping her fingers under the collar of Maite’s robe, and had been running the pads of her fingers along the back of her neck. She glanced down at her hand, and cleared her throat.

“Well, if I go, my hand comes with me. So, no, I won’t keep doing that.”

Maite made a small humming noise.

“Pity. I’m quite enjoying it.”

Camino smiled, and leaned down closer to her ear.

“I know you’re busy. I just wanted to see you for a few minutes. I’ll go.”

With her thumb, she swiped tenderly at a spot just under Maite’s ear. She straightened up, and stepped away, letting her fingers fall from Maite’s neck to her shoulder and down her arm. Except just as she was turning away and about to lose contact, a strong hand caught her wrist, and Camino turned back to find bright brown eyes looking straight at her.

“Don’t you dare.”

Maite brought the wrist in her hand up to her lips and pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin at Camino’s pulse point. Camino’s eyes fell shut briefly at the touch before opening again.

“Why, Miss Zaldúa, I thought you were very busy.”

Maite’s answer was to narrow her eyes before asking, “When do you have to be back?”

Camino took a deep breath at the suggestive tone of Maite’s question, and her mouth turned up slightly as she felt the air between them shift.

“Not until dinnertime.”

“Good.”

Maite was on her feet in an instant, stepping into Camino’s space. She dropped her wrist in favor of bringing both her hands up to frame her face, her thumbs stroking along the younger woman’s cheeks. Camino watched her eyes drop down to her mouth, and she couldn’t help the satisfied sound from the back of her throat when Maite closed the gap between them. Her lips pressed firmly against her own and then softened as they parted slightly, asking permission. It was another thing she loved about Maite, how she never assumed or insisted. She always sought Camino’s consent.

Camino gave it gladly, and she drew in a sharp breath as Maite’s tongue licked slowly into her mouth. The sensation was overwhelming every time, as if her mind still couldn’t wrap around the fact that this was her reality, that she had somehow been lucky enough to stumble into this woman’s arms.

When they parted again, they both took a deep breath before looking at each other with what Camino could only imagine were ridiculous smiles.

“So, just to be clear, you’re… _not_ busy?” Camino questioned, her eyes quickly dropping back down to Maite’s mouth, already desperate to kiss her again, to pull her lower lip between her own.

Maite’s answer was immediate.

“Oh, I’m going to be _very_ busy. All afternoon.”

At that, Camino raised her eyebrows as a delicious pressure took up residence low in her belly.

“ _All_ afternoon?”

Maite nodded and slipped her hand down to lace it with Camino’s.

“Sí. Come with me.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, Chapter 3 turned into Chapters 3 & 4 because Maite and Camino ran away from me, and it turns out....they're wanton. So here's the first part. Enjoy, and drop me a note - I love feedback!

Maite led Camino down the short hallway to the moderate but comfortable bedroom at the back of the apartment.

Camino could still count on one hand how many times they’d actually made it back there in moments of intimacy. More often than not, being pressed for time combined with a lack of patience found them tumbling onto the chaise in the front studio, eager hands delving underneath undergarments, mouths tasting any skin they could reach. They had learned quickly to make the most of stolen moments, but there was no denying the fact that the times where they had the luxury to just _be_ were few and far between.

But now, they unexpectedly had the whole afternoon.

Maite turned when reaching the bed, pulling Camino against her. She reached up to caress the younger woman’s chin with the back of her knuckles.

“I’m very glad you decided to take a long walk in the park.”

Camino smiled as Maite’s fingers dropped to start undoing the buttons of Camino’s blouse. Practiced fingers made short work of them, and she shrugged out of the blouse, her skirt quickly following. Maite leaned forward to press a kiss to Camino’s neck and then traced her lips along her right shoulder, drawing down the strap of her chemise. Camino leaned into the touch, savoring it, before stepping away.

Maite looked at her questioningly.

Camino lifted a finger.

“Espera.”

She leaned down, and unlaced her boots, kicking them and her stockings off to the side as she heard Maite chuckle with amusement. Camino straightened up, wiggling her toes in freedom, and met Maite’s gaze with an equally amused grin and an eye roll.

“Just for once, por el amor de Dios.”

Still smiling, Maite stepped back into her space, her eyes moving over Camino’s face, across her shoulders, dropping down to her chest.

“You’re wearing too much,” she murmured, her fingers reaching for the other strap of the chemise and pulling it down. She next hooked her fingers into the body of the garment, slowly drawing it down to Camino’s waist. The younger woman shuddered as Maite’s hands ghosted over her ribs before her palms brushed over her breasts, the sensation just enough for the sensitive flesh to react, and she pressed forward, silently asking for more. Maite’s response was immediate. She dropped her head to left breast, bestowing a series of small kisses before taking her nipple fully in her mouth, tongue darting out to circle it. Camino’s breath hitched and she reached out to cradle Maite’s head, steadying herself. Maite’s mouth sucking at her gently felt exquisite.

With a last flick of her tongue, the older woman straightened up after several moments, only to press an open kiss against Camino’s mouth. “I will never tire of the taste of your skin,” she said in a low timbre, as she continued to kiss Camino along her jawline. “And…” she continued, her hands at Camino’s hips, “You’re still wearing too much.”

Maite’s voice traveled down Camino’s spine and radiated out into her body, causing a small tremor.

“I can fix that,” Camino replied with a shaky breath before she stepped back just enough to pull the chemise off entirely. She dropped it to the side, and raised her eyes to find Maite looking back at her, dark brown eyes sliding intently over her body.

Standing bare in front of Maite was intoxicating. It was something she hadn’t had a choice in…before. But to do so now, in front of the person who understood her and accepted her, filled her with a sense of empowerment. And calm. It was a different feeling entirely to _want_ someone to see her in this way.

She moved back to Maite, taking her hand in hers, and placed it over her own heart.

“This is yours,” she said simply. “Te amo.”

With her free hand, Maite reached up to cradle the back of her head before kissing her slowly, with great care. “You are my greatest gift, Camino,” she declared. “I didn’t even know I was looking for you.”

She wrapped both arms around the younger woman as she resumed kissing her, pulling her closer, the friction of her clothes intoxicating against Camino’s bare skin. Camino dropped her hands to Maite’s waist, bunching the material of her shirt in her fists as their mouths connected again and again, tongues sliding against each other.

Pulling back slightly, Maite turned Camino toward the bed, pushing her down gently until she was seated, her hands framed her face and she smiled down at her.

“Preciosa,” she whispered.

She bent down for another kiss, and moved to follow Camino onto the bed, but stopped at the soft pressure of Camino’s hand on her shoulder as she deliberately leaned away. A small sound of irritation came from the older woman at the loss of contact.

“What’s wrong?”

Camino eyed her.

“This,” she said, flicking her finger up and down, indicating Maite’s clothing. “You seem to still be dressed.”

Maite frowned.

“In a minute,” she promised as she tried leaning down again to kiss her. Camino let her get just close enough to feel her breath on her lips before pushing her away more firmly.

“It’s not negotiable,” she informed her, smiling sweetly.

Maite huffed in frustration and straightened up, but then made no further move, as she almost immediately got sidetracked by once again raking her eyes over the younger woman.

“Maite,” Camino said to get her attention, reaching out to run the fingers of her right hand from behind Maite’s knee, up along the back of her leg, and over the flare of her hip. She let her hand wander across her waist to the ribbon tie of her trousers, threading the material briefly through her fingers before pulling at it, undoing the knot. She looked up. “Take off your clothes.”

Maite’s eyes, which had been tracking Camino’s hand intensely as soon as she’d reached out, suddenly flared wide at the command, and the younger woman saw a small shiver run through her.

“Pushy,” she admonished with a shake of her head and a smile. “I really didn’t see that coming.”

Still, after a moment’s consideration, she did as she was asked. Her eyes never leaving Camino’s, she slipped out of her paisley robe before slowly undoing the buttons of her blouse. Letting it fall to the floor, she next toed off her own shoes before finishing what Camino started by loosening the sash of her trousers, letting them slide down to join the growing pile of clothes next to her. She next reached up to unravel the ribbon holding her hair back, and dark locks fell to her shoulders, framing her face.

Camino held her gaze, shifting slightly on the bed as her belly tightened another notch, and she silently reminded herself to breathe.

Standing in just her chemise, Maite looked away for just a moment, and then found Camino’s eyes again. She took a deep breath before drawing the straps down and stepping out of it, at last standing bare in front of Camino.

Camino blinked slowly, unused to the luxury of this moment.

Maite was stunning. Camino let her eyes roam hungrily over her lover as she tried to take it all in – the strong muscled legs from hours of walking, the jut of her hip that Camino was desperate to put her mouth against, the swell of her breasts rising and falling with Maite’s steady breath, the elegant slope of her neck where Camino liked to bury her nose and inhale her scent. She wanted to commit it all to memory, every last inch of skin.

Camino stared for so long that she noticed Maite start to fidget.

The fingers of her left hand were opening and closing reflexively, something Camino had come to understand as a sign of the painter’s nervousness, even when her face betrayed nothing. It puzzled Camino for a moment before it occurred to her – as used to studying the human form as Maite was, analyzing every curve and subtlety, she was much less used to being studied herself. And it was clearly affecting her.

Camino lifted her eyes back to meet Maite’s.

“Maite, you’re beautiful,” she told her.

Maite’s eyes searched hers seriously as Camino noted another quick hand twitch.

“You are,” she repeated. “So very beautiful. I could look at you forever.” She reached her hand toward her as Maite seemed to relax and smile at last. “Come here,” she requested softly.

Maite placed her hand in Camino’s, and the younger woman pulled her after her as she moved further on the bed.

Camino reclined against a pillow, and Maite followed her until she was braced over her, dark hair falling forward.

Camino could feel the heat of her, just tantalizingly out of reach, and her hips lifted slightly in hopes of finding contact.

But unfortunately for her, Maite’s teasing nature seemed to have returned. She kept herself just far enough above her as she smiled somewhat wickedly down at Camino.

“Is there something you want?” she asked innocently.

Camino answered by lifting her head to capture Maite’s lower lip between her own, running her tongue over its fullness before releasing it. She pushed Maite’s hair back from her face as she murmured against her lips, “You know exactly what I want.”

And when Camino slid her hands along Maite’s back until they reached her waist, applying gentle pressure to draw her downward, Maite acquiesced, and they both sighed as Maite settled fully against her, her weight pressing into Camino, anchoring her in the moment. They stilled, foreheads touching, their breathing the only sound in the room.

And then Maite moved slightly, sliding her right thigh between Camino’s legs, and pressing against her just enough for the younger woman to quietly gasp in surprise, her hips instantly seeking more, craving what Maite was offering.

Her immediate reaction startled her. She was still getting used to this new aspect of her life, these sensations of desire and pleasure, and every time she and Maite were together she seemed to make another discovery.

“Maite,” she managed, shifting beneath her, her arms sliding along the plane of her back, trying to find a way to sooth the growing ache she was feeling.

Maite, for her part, pressed against her a second time, but with the same light, exasperating pressure. She leaned down just enough to kiss her before starting to pull away. However, Camino was faster, and she threaded her hands through Maite’s hair, pulling her mouth firmly against hers. Camino sought entrance immediately and hummed in relief when Maite’s tongue stroked against hers in what quickly became hard, heated kisses.

Maite finally pulled back.

“You’re so impatient,” she chided with a smile. “I think we’ve talked about this.”

“ _You’ve_ talked about it,” Camino replied, smiling back. “I’m fine with my lack of patience.” She rolled her hips upward to prove her point, and watched as Maite bit her lip.

“Don’t I know it,” was the reply before Maite’s mouth once again covered her own, and Camino indulged in the feeling of being pressed against each other, kissing until they both were short of breath.

Tilting her forehead against Camino’s, Maite’s hand started sliding over her body, fingers exploring, tracing patterns along her arms, her waist, the flat of her stomach. The sensation made Camino feel both incredibly safe and ready to jump out of her skin at the same time. She had never imagined that physical touch could feel like this, or that it would feel like this for _her_. From her only previous experience, she had assumed she’d be forever scared or broken.

But with Maite, she was learning to let go, to trade fear and tension for trust and freedom to choose. The older woman had made it clear from the beginning that she would never do anything Camino didn’t want.

The only problem, if it could be called one, was that with the gift of choice, instead of shying away, she wanted everything – Maite’s touch, her kisses, her body pressed against hers at every conceivable point – until sometimes she felt like she’d explode with desire.

Like now.

Maite’s hand skimmed her side, her touch light but definite, down her leg to circle her knee, before traveling back up across her ribs. She paused there for a moment, dark eyes checking in with her, before gently palming her breast. Camino closed her eyes as Maite squeezed lightly. And then she felt Maite tonguing the hollow of her throat as she began to roll her nipple gently between thumb and forefinger. The sheer pleasure of just that was nearly overwhelming, and Camino’s fingers dug into Maite’s shoulders reflexively.

She felt Maite’s head lift and then heard her voice in the tone she only used in these moments, soft and lilting.

“Open your eyes, amor mío,” she said as she continued brushing her fingers over the younger woman’s sensitive flesh.

Camino did so and found Maite looking down at her, naked desire clear in her gaze.

“Do you have any idea how many times a day I think about this? About touching you? Wanting you?”

Camino shook her head, trying and failing to ignore Maite’s persistent touch as she arched up in response, wanting more.

“How many?” she asked, immediately inhaling sharply as Maite increased the pressure in response to Camino’s silent request.

“Enough that I’m getting very close to missing deadlines, I’m afraid. You are not good for my concentration.”

“You don’t seem to be having a problem right now.”

Maite smiled as she was pressed another kiss to her collarbone.

“Sí, es verdad, sí. You have my full attention.”

Camino couldn’t help but smile in satisfaction.

The older woman brought both hands back to brace on either side of her, looking down. Camino immediately missed her touch, and Maite’s mouth quirked at the small pout she gave her.

“You can’t give me that face every time you want something.”

Camino ran her hands along Maite’s upper arms, feeling the muscles jerk at her touch.

“What if the thing I want is the thing you want to give?”

Camino pulled Maite down in a kiss, nearly dizzy with need as Maite responded by slowly rolling her hips against her own, the friction eliciting a moan from the younger woman.

“And what is it that you think I want to give?” came the question, accompanied by a more deliberate roll that coaxed forth yet another moan.

Camino gritted her teeth as Maite pressed against her a third time, quickly losing the ability to form coherent words.

“I think,” she managed, lifting her legs to wrap around Maite’s hips in an effort to get her even closer, “That you want to touch me.”

Despite Camino’s effort, Maite somehow had a reserve of patience Camino did not possess on a good day. She stilled her movement.

“And is that what you want?” she questioned, reaching to gently bite at Camino’s earlobe. Camino shuddered at the sensation even as she felt an unexpected rush of love for the woman poised above her. Even now, she was asking, giving Camino a choice. And Camino had never felt so safe.

She nodded.

“Very much.”

Maite smiled, kissed her soundly, and then began to slide her hand between their bodies.

Camino, nearly trembling, kissed her back as she felt her touch travel from her hip, to her thigh, until finally, mercifully, her fingers slipped between her legs, and the younger woman groaned into Maite’s mouth, helpless against how much she wanted this.

Maite’s fingers stroked against her, circling, and Camino gripped her shoulders as a now-familiar tension began building in her body. Alternating pressure, Maite was relentless in her touch, and Camino could barely remain still as several firm strokes were followed by one that just barely touched her, and then firm once again, keeping her off balance. She whimpered as she sought Maite’s mouth once more with her own, and she strained against her.

“Maite,” she said, panting. “Más, por favor.”

Maite smiled in between hard, deep kisses, and Camino looked for a sign that Maite was in the mood to tease, refusing to give her what she wanted in favor of bringing her to the edge again and again.

But not today.

“Claro que sí,” she answered, and a moment later, Camino lifted her hips as she felt Maite’s fingers slide inside her, gliding easily. They both exhaled at the feeling, heads together. There was another shared smile, Camino’s hands laced through Maite’s damp hair, clutching her close. The older woman stayed still, giving Camino a few seconds to adjust until Camino lifted her hips again, encouraging her.

And so Maite’s fingers began to move, thrusting gently against her, building a steady rhythm. And Camino followed it, meeting her fingers again and again, giving in to the heat rising within her, the delicious feeling Maite had taught her to embrace.

As Maite continued curling her fingers against her, soft voice urging her on, Camino felt herself hurtling to the edge, the force and speed of the sensation still startling in its newness. And when Maite changed her angle slightly, delving deeper, Camino shuddered as the heat suddenly flared out into her body, and she dug her nails into Maite’s back. She cried out, clenching around Maite’s fingers, hips lifting hard off the bed.

She looked up in that moment to find Maite’s eyes trained on her, watching, and Camino saw the love in her gaze as she drew every last tremor from Camino’s body. The younger woman held her gaze, trying to convey everything that was impossible to say right now.

“Yo lo sé,” Maite whispered, nuzzling her nose against hers. “Yo lo sé.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know we're all super sad right now. So here's a little more happy Camino and Maite, even if it is only a memory. I think we all deserve it this weekend. Hope it helps a little. :)

Maite was propped on her elbow, looking at Camino, a smile on her lips. At the moment, all Camino could do was look back at her, slightly drowsy, limbs heavy.

“I love to see you like that,” Maite told her as she reached out with her other hand to brush away Camino’s hair that was escaping its pins. “Free. Unrestrained. It’s beautiful.”

Camino sighed as Maite’s hand continued, slowing starting to work the pins out of her hair and setting them aside until they were all out. As Maite combed out the amber strands with her fingers, the moment felt impossibly indulgent to Camino, to lie here together, to have time.

Maite leaned over her, pressing her lips against hers in an unhurried kiss.

“Te quiero,” she said.

“Yo tambien,” Camino answered, as Maite dropped slow kisses down along her shoulder and back up along her jaw.

Camino reached up, lazy hands sliding along her cheeks before curling them around Maite’s neck, pulling her down for another kiss.

It began unhurried again, neither quite willing to let go of the moment yet, their quiet sighs the only sound in the room.

But soon Maite slid closer to her, her thigh tucking over Camino’s, and the kiss deepened, Maite pressing forward.

Camino smiled inwardly because she knew what Maite was trying to tell her.

And so she matched her kiss and lifted her shoulders at the same time, pushing upward and guiding Maite until she was on her back and Camino was able to slip her leg over her, straddling her. She kissed her once more, and then sat back.

Maite looked up at her, desire clear in her dark eyes as she slid her hands along Camino’s thighs.

“This might be one of my favorite views,” she said. “One I’m dying to paint.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Who says I haven’t started?” Maite countered, her eyes roaming over the younger woman.

Camino smiled, reached down to take her hands, and laced their fingers together. Maite’s closed around hers, her hold solid and reassuring. Camino then lifted them up and away from her to gently pin Maite’s hands above her head, elbows bent. Maite lifted her eyebrows at her, watching as she leaned forward to kiss along her brow, her cheek, before leaning further and brushing her ear with her mouth.

“You can paint to your heart’s content later. But do you know what _I’ve_ been thinking about since we were last together?”

Maite’s breath caught, and she shook her head. Camino uttered a soft “Mmmm…” and then whispered, “My lips against your skin. The places I want to taste. It’s been driving me crazy.” She lifted back up just enough to look Maite in the eyes. “Do you want me to show you where?”

Maite’s focus was slightly off as she returned the gaze.

“Sí,” she managed, nodding, and Camino smiled again, pleased at the effect she was having. She knew she didn’t have anything to compare it to, but the give and take that flowed effortlessly between them seemed like it was a rare thing, even to her – that each was willing to give up control as well as take it.

“Well, first,” she started conversationally, “I thought about tasting you here.” She leaned back down to Maite’s neck, pausing to inhale her scent before pressing her open mouth against the delicate skin just below her ear. She heard a soft “Dios” as Maite exhaled. Camino took her time, covering every bit of skin, hands still locked with Maite’s, and the older woman’s hands squeezed hers in rhythm with every kiss.

“And then, of course, I thought about tasting you here,” she continued, easing her hands from Maite’s grip in favor of moving further down, tracing kisses along Maite’s collar bone until she could cup the fullness of Maite’s breast.

“Camino,” Maite groaned just before Camino pulled her nipple into her mouth and began stroking it with the flat of her tongue. Very soon, it pebbled under her attention, but she did not stop, drawing the hard peak into her mouth again and again. Maite’s hands threaded through her hair, encouraging her, and Camino obliged, unaware of her hips rocking against Maite’s until the older woman’s hands suddenly landed on her waist, pulling her down hard against her.

Inhaling with surprise, Camino finally let go, stilling her movement, and Maite’s head lifted to look at her.

“Where else?” she panted. Camino dipped her head one more time, drawing her tongue across her nipple as a strangled sound escaped Maite’s throat.

“Where else?” she echoed. “Well, without question I thought about tasting you here.” Again leading with a trail of kisses, her mouth at last landed at Maite’s hip where supple skin covered sharp bone, the place she was dying to press her lips against since Maite had first stood bare in front of her. Camino nipped at the spot, teeth leaving small impressions, followed immediately by soothing kisses. “This is one of my favorite places on your body,” she explained. “A place only I can touch. This freckle only I can see.” Camino placed a reverent kiss on the small mark.

By now, Maite was all but twisting underneath her at Camino’s deliberate journey across her body. Camino could tell she was trying to hold still, but she was losing the battle and she bent her legs, feet pressing hard into the mattress. And Camino took advantage of that as she settled in the cradle of her lover’s hips and her mouth found her inner thigh. Maite gasped.

“Camino. Por favor,” came the strained plea.

“Should I show you the last place I want to taste?” she asked, somehow keeping her voice steady even as she felt the pulse of arousal begin again in her own body.

Maite gave a stifled laugh.

“If you don’t, I may scream.”

Camino grinned, still tracing her mouth slowly across the juncture of Maite’s leg and hip.

“Then we’ll have the same result either way.”

Maite all but growled.

“Camino,” Maite’s voice was stronger. “Show me. Now.”

Camino bestowed one more kiss while chuckling lightly.

“Claro que sí, mi amor,” echoing Maite’s earlier words back to her.

And then she dropped her head to at last run her tongue softly between Maite’s legs, and though her first touch was barely even a touch, there was a sigh of relief from above her. Right now, she couldn’t think of a more beautiful sound or a better gift than to be the cause of it.

Camino pressed her tongue against Maite a second time, the taste of her hitting her senses, earthy and sweet. This had been another surprise to the younger woman – the intimacy of this, the power it had, and the surrender.

She had wanted to learn what Maite liked, and she had dedicated herself to studying the older woman as diligently as she had to studying art. She had been unafraid to ask questions, her natural curiosity lending itself to this new pursuit until she knew what made Maite tremble and what made her come undone.

And now Camino was putting that knowledge to good use.

She slid her tongue against Maite’s center, licking at her, slowly and intentionally, the soft sounds Maite was making guiding her movement. She lingered at every stroke, taking satisfaction in the tension she could feel steadily building in the muscles of Maite’s legs.

In the moments she had thought about being with another person like this, she had never considered it would be just as fulfilling to be the one giving pleasure. But every sigh she heard from Maite, the occasional words tumbling from her lips indicating Camino found a particularly sensitive spot, the way she was beginning to grasp at the bed sheets, searching for purchase, created an answering reaction in Camino’s body. It was unexpected, and incomparable to anything she imagined.

She shifted subtly, adjusting her mouth to fit more fully against Maite, her tongue against her most sensitive flesh, applying more pressure. As soon as she did, Maite’s hips lifted, seeking more, one hand still clutching at the sheet beneath them, the other lifting to bury in the younger woman’s hair.

And in that moment, Camino gave her everything she sought, anchoring Maite with her arm curled over her thigh, closing her lips over the small bundle of nerves at her apex until Maite arched against her, body locking in release, calling out Camino’s name with stuttered breath.

Camino held Maite close as she felt the tremors rock through her until she at last dropped back against the bed, fingers relaxing both in Camino’s hair and the sheets.

Camino pulled away gently and pressed a soft kiss just under Maite’s navel before moving up to be level with her.

Maite blinked at her slowly, reaching out and running her palm along her shoulder, down her arm, and cupping her elbow before grasping her wrist, thumb rubbing circles.

She looked as if she was about to say something, but instead, she moved to lay her head against Camino’s chest, taking a deep breath and exhaling.

Camino looped her arms around her. She loved these moments when she got to hold Maite, to see the vulnerability she knew was there beneath the energy and strength she presented to the rest of the world.

Maite’s hand caressed Camino’s side.

“I don’t think I taught you that, what you just did.”

Camino huffed in amusement, her fingers gently massaging at Maite’s scalp.

“I’m a quick study.”

Camino felt Maite’s answering smile against her chest.

“Yes, you are.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a bit of a short chapter, but I couldn't let go of this lovely encounter quite yet....

They spent the rest of the afternoon in bed, curled into each other, laughing and talking. Touching. Maite told her stories of the art circles in Paris as she marked Camino’s skin with soft kisses, and Camino in turn filled Maite in on the neighborhood goings on, who was doing what and with whom, all while reverently tracing her fingers across her back, staking claim on the small mole she found there.

They only paused when Maite’s stomach grumbled unexpectedly. She chuckled and looked at the clock.

“Hmm, no wonder.” She looked at Camino and reached out to tuck some hair behind her ear. “Do you want some tea?”

Camino leaned into the touch and nodded.

“Okay, wait here. I’ll be right back.”

Camino stretched as Maite got up, and she enjoyed the view of her lover’s backside as she walked across the room.

Maite caught her staring as she turned around in the doorway. As Camino shrugged unapologetically, she shook her head in imaginary shock and asked, “Do you want biscuits with your tea?”

Camino’s own stomach grumbled at the suggestion, and she nodded vigorously, suddenly aware of how hungry she was. Maite laughed lightly in response.

“Bueno. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

The younger woman leaned back, closing her eyes in contentment. She listened to the muffled sounds of people out on the street, and Maite puttering in the kitchen. She wanted to get used to this.

A few minutes later, she heard the kettle whistle, and Maite appeared shortly thereafter with a tray of tea and biscuits. She set it down on a small sitting table, and Camino got up to join her.

As Camino settled into the chair opposite her, Maite poured for the both of them before taking her cup, sitting back, and crossing her legs, blowing at the liquid for a moment to cool it. Camino couldn’t help but grin at the sight of Maite primly sipping her tea not wearing a stitch of clothing.

Camino picked up her own cup and said casually, “You know, if someone had told me a few months ago that I would be sitting in Maite Zalduá’s bedroom having tea while she sat quite nude across from me, I might have questioned that person’s sanity.”

Maite eyed her over teacup, and arched an eyebrow.

“You know,” she returned, “I seem to remember a young girl not so long ago standing in my studio all but scandalized at a picture of a naked Venus de Milo. I wonder what happened to her?”

Camino shrugged and sipped her tea.

“Maybe she just needed a real-life model.”

Maite’s chuckle resonated in the room as she shook her head. Camino smiled back, and set her cup back in her saucer.

“Does it bother you? When I look at you?” she asked, remembering the moment earlier.

Maite looked at her and considered the question for a moment.

“Camino…no one has looked at me like you do for a long time, and it’s taken me a little while to get used to it again. But…I like the way you look at me. I don’t want you to stop.”

Camino smiled a second time and nodded.

“Good. Because I like looking at you. A lot.” Camino punctuated her statement by deliberately dropping her eyes to Maite’s chest, arousal snaking into the corners of her body as she imagined drawing soft flesh into her mouth again.

Maite sat watching Camino hungry stare, and shook her head slightly again.

“It occurs to me that I am the only person in this town who knows that demure ‘innocent’ Camino Pasamar is, in actuality, a completely shameless woman. What am I supposed to do with that?”

Camino put down her tea and leaned forward.

“I have a few suggestions.”

Maite’s eyes widened slightly as she stilled, holding Camino’s gaze. Camino saw her lick her lips before two fingers of her hand tapped against her teacup, and the young woman couldn’t help but feel a little pleased. But Maite recovered, shifting slightly in her chair as she, too, leaned forward, inches from Camino’s face. She lifted a hand as if to touch her, but instead reached out to pick up a biscuit, offering it to Camino.

“Eat,” she said, eyes flicking down at Camino’s mouth before glancing back up. “You’re going to need the energy.”

Camino leaned forward to take the biscuit, intentionally drawing Maite’s fingers into her mouth along with the treat. She let her tongue slide along the pad of her index finger before withdrawing. She chewed thoughtfully, holding Maite’s gaze. Both women’s eyes were bright with an unspoken challenge.

“I hope so,” she answered just seconds before Maite’s mouth was upon hers.

Maite led Camino back to her bed, pulling her down until they were side by side. She drew the younger woman’s leg over her hip, running her hand along the outside of her thigh. Camino sighed as she slipped her hands into Maite’s hair and lifted her head slightly to kiss her. They shifted more fully against each other, Camino’s hands cradling the back of Maite’s head, Maite’s hand on her backside, anchoring Camino against her. Their mouths slid softly against each other, Camino tasting the cinnamon from the tea on Maite’s lips.

They made love again, unhurried, as time seemed to cooperate for once, and the late afternoon stretched to accommodate them. The only things that existed were each other’s touch and the quiet sound of their voices, offering encouragement, affirming pleasure. And when the tension built beyond what either of them could control, they let go, giving in to one another, limbs wrapped tightly around each other.

As Camino burrowed into Maite’s arms, she was once again amazed at this beautiful and fragile gift she’d been given, in the form of this woman who inspired her and challenged her and loved her in ways she had not thought possible. And though she knew there were risks, she couldn’t help but count herself lucky to have found this at all. As young as she was, she still knew that what she and Maite had many people spent a lifetime looking for and she refused to believe that something that felt like this could be wrong.

Content, Camino closed her eyes and dozed off, Maite’s hand softly stroking her hair.

She opened her eyes again to Maite’s voice.

“Camino. It’s almost dinnertime. You have to get back to the restaurant.”

Camino sighed.

“No quiero.”

“Camino.”

“Yo lo sé. I’m going.”

With a last kiss to Maite’s shoulder, Camino forced herself out of bed, found her clothes, and got dressed. She next grabbed the pins Maite had set aside and put her hair back up in a reasonable approximation of what it had looked like before, and prayed no one looked too closely. Tucking back the last stubborn strand, she turned back to Maite, who was still in bed, looking like she had no immediate plans to move.

Camino eyed her, and it took all her self-control not to crawl right back into the sheets with her. She instead walked to the edge of the bed and leaned down, sliding her hand along Maite’s cheek before placing a kiss on her lips.

“Are you planning on lounging here for the rest of the day, or will you at least walk me out?”

Maite smiled.

“I think I can handle that.”

She rose from the bed and grabbed her robe, tying it around herself.

Camino snuck in one last kiss and then managed to pull herself away, turning toward the door. As she did so, she spied some art books on the floor.

She bent down, grabbing a couple, and turned back to Maite.

“I need to borrow these.”

“Of course, amore mío, you can take any books you’d like. Are you sure those are the ones you want?”

“Yes, they're fine. The books themselves aren’t so important.”

Maite raised her eyebrows in a silent question.

Camino cleared her throat and smile sheepishly.

“Well, after my walk, I’ve been at the library all afternoon.”

Maite and her laughter followed her down the hallway.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me a while to write this last part, as I think we all knew it wouldn't end on a terribly high note, but I hope it leaves everyone with a bit of optimism anyway. I think Camino feels positive, and I think there's reason to believe that, even today, our feisty Pasamar is still in there somewhere. Fingers crossed.
> 
> I hope everyone is staying healthy and safe.
> 
> As always, I'd love to hear from you if you're so inclined! Thanks for traveling along with me on this little fic!

Camino hugged the pillow tightly to her chest, remembering that afternoon. It was a day when a future together seemed possible. That perhaps, with a little luck, they could find the path that would lead to their life together.

She knew she had been naïve then, but at this particular moment, she would give anything to have that feeling back. She wanted desperately to believe that people could chart their own course, have a say in their vocation, and choose the person with whom they wanted to spend their lives. Maite had once told her that was asking a lot, but she didn’t think so. It seemed simple.

There was a part of her that knew things would change eventually – that old ways of thinking would die off, that women would not always have to count on men for stability and security. Maite was proof enough of that, as modern a woman as Camino had ever met. But the current situation in which they found themselves also warned her how very far they still had to go – that simply following your heart could cause untold trouble, and that most people could not understand love that perhaps looked different from their own.

And yet, Camino would not trade a moment of what she’d had with Maite. No matter what, Camino would never regret the ways in which the painter had changed her. There had always been something inside her that longed for more than the path her mother wanted to set for her. It was a life and experiences she couldn’t readily identify but she suspected were out there all the same. There were countless times when she thought about working in the restaurant forever or being married off to some perfectly pleasant but uninspiring man, and she wanted to scream when she envisioned the repetitive days stretching out before her. But then suddenly, without warning, on a completely ordinary day, Maite walked into her life and proceeded to turn everything she knew on its head and showed her that all those nameless things she longed for might actually exist, both in life and in love.

She had watched others fall in love, most notably her brother and Cinta, and had idly wondered if it would ever happen to her. Everyone insisted that it would, but nobody had ever really caught her eye, and the few boys who’d attempted to approach her didn’t have much in the way of conversation or personality to warrant anything from Camino other than a distant politeness, something that she knew frustrated her mother endlessly. She did not exactly share her mother’s fears of becoming an old maid, but she sometimes wondered if something was wrong with her, that she didn’t find anyone particularly worthy of more than courteous interest. She could barely get through one conversation with some young man without thinking that she’d rather be washing dishes in the restaurant kitchen. At least the dishes didn’t mind her having her own thoughts.

Except with Maite, it was all different. They never ran out of things to talk about, and Camino could not believe her good fortune to find someone who engaged her in conversation as an equal participant. She could debate with her, she could ask questions, and although less experienced, with Maite, Camino never felt like she didn’t have the right to speak her mind.

She fell in love so easily and naturally that she did not even recognize it for what it was at first. It was surprising when she first registered what was happening, but at the same time, when she thought about it, it was no surprise at all. All those little things that she’d heard from Emilio and Cinta, they made sense now – the sleeplessness, the inability to focus, marking time until she could be back in Maite’s studio, alone with her teacher, soaking up her words and finding endless excuses to come into close proximity to her.

And while the fact that Maite was a woman certainly gave her pause at first, it didn’t seem nearly as strange as she might have expected. She didn’t know if it was Maite’s influence or her own way of thinking or perhaps a combination of both, but by the time Camino fully worked out what was happening, Maite’s gender seemed to have very little to do with anything. All she knew was this person lit her up inside and she had never felt so alive and vibrant and willing to challenge anything or anyone who wanted to take this remarkable thing away from her.

Camino at last sat up on the bed. She knew she’d been lying here long enough where someone was going to start looking for her, and she’d promised Liberto no one would know she was here. She stood up, replaced the pillow at the head of the bed, and smoothed the quilt back into place.

She briefly considered gathering some of Maite’s clothes for her, but then she didn’t know if the jail would allow that. And she didn’t know if she’d have the strength anyway to go through Maite’s clothes that still held her scent and the memory of happier times. In the end, she settled on grabbing one of the artist’s warm sweaters and tucked it underneath her arm. Surely, they would at least allow her to have something to stave off the cold.

With one last look around the bedroom, Camino turned and walked back up the hallway. She bent to place the sweater on top of the painting case, and stood up, staring at the door. Another moment of that afternoon that she’d almost forgotten came rushing back.

\--------------------------------------------------

Maite had trailed after her as Camino made her way to the door, setting the books down to gather the rest of her things. She had slipped on her coat, but before she could reach for her hat, a pair of arms encircled her, spinning her, and she found herself rather suddenly pinned against the door, Maite’s mouth firmly against hers.

Camino smiled, returning the kiss, before pulling back and raising her eyebrows.

“I thought you were kicking me out?”

Maite’s hands slid inside her coat, warm fingers curling around her waist.

“Was I?” she murmured, pressing soft kisses along her jaw. Camino tilted her head slightly in response.

Camino reached up to trace a finger along the exposed skin in the vee of Maite’s loosely tied robe.

“I’m pretty sure that was what was happening,” she whispered before leaning in for a slow kiss, amazed that the need for Maite’s touch was prickling at her once again. The more she got it, the more she wanted it, a feeling which made no logical sense to Camino. She pulled Maite flush against her.

“Explain to me why I want you more now than when I arrived,” she demanded against Maite’s lips.

Maite grinned. 

“Eso es deseo,” she answered, her hands smoothing over Camino’s back.

Camino’s palms framed Maite’s face, indulging in another long kiss before reluctantly pulling away.

“It’s certainly not helping me leave you. But now I really have to. If I’m not back by dinnertime….”

Maite sighed and dropped her hands.

“Lo sé. Go. Before we really get in trouble.”

Camino tilted her head against the older woman’s.

“There’s no one else I want to get in trouble with,” she said with a sly smile. “Te quiero.”

“Te quiero tambien,” Maite responded, stepping back. “Now off you go. And don’t come back for a few days,” she continued, the instruction now a joke between them, as they both knew how very useless it was at this point – Maite didn’t mean it, and Camino wouldn’t listen anyway. “Or come back tomorrow. Whichever.”

Camino’s lips quirked as she at last donned her hat and picked the books back up. She leaned in to place one last kiss on Maite’s cheek.

“Pronto, mi amor.”

\--------------------------------------------------

Camino swallowed hard at the memory, happy and painful all at once. She sighed, more determined than ever that there would be more happy memories to come. There had to be.

She stepped back into the studio to gather the items she had left on the chair. She turned, just about to leave, when something by the door caught her eye. Nestled between some of the paintings not yet packaged, Camino could see a corner of a plain piece of paper sticking out. Walking over, she carefully extracted it, turning it over.

She inhaled sharply.

It was the portrait she had drawn of Maite. Trying to steady her shaking hands, she tilted it slightly in the dim light of the room, studying it.

She could already see several areas where she could make improvements – areas that were perhaps shaded a little darker than they should have been, lines that could have been a little more defined. She’d grown so much as an artist even in the short time since she’s drawn this. However, Camino was pleased to see that, despite some errors in technique, the portrait still captured Maite’s essence – the strong, indomitable spirit, and the inherent beauty in that spirit. Camino couldn’t think of her any other way, even if Maite couldn’t see it in herself.

She looked up from the picture, a thought coming to mind, and she walked to the drafting table. Picking up one of the pencils still sitting there, she flipped the portrait over. She took a deep breath and then wrote across the back:

_This is still how I see you. Always._

Camino put the pencil down, picked up the paper, and walked to the front door. She popped open the painter’s case, slipped the paper carefully into the middle of the notebook, and prayed the guards wouldn’t look too closely.

Closing the case, Camino picked up the rest of her things, and walked out the door.


End file.
